


At Your Convenience

by Aiobhlin



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Lucifer POV, No wings because I like the imagery of his scars, Porn With Very Little Plot, The sex scene that I wanted to read after a story that someone else wrote, really it's most compliant through S2, setting: lux, sex with feelings, though really who cares where this falls in canon, yes the piano features
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 01:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12948555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aiobhlin/pseuds/Aiobhlin
Summary: Following the events ofyour body will haunt mine, Lucifer worries that their "moment" was just a fluke, until one night when Chloe shows up at his door.





	At Your Convenience

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [your body will haunt mine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12839010) by [wollfgang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wollfgang/pseuds/wollfgang). 



> [Wollfgang](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wollfgang/pseuds/wollfgang)'s story ruined me for all other Lucifer fic, until I could get this down on paper. It's been beta-ed, by both the lovely [englishmajor226](http://archiveofourown.org/users/englishmajor226/pseuds/englishmajor226) and by the previously mentioned author. It's very stream-of-consciousness, and some stuff is left to your imagination, but I hope you like it.

It turned out, very little in the Detective’s life was convenient.

First thing after leaving the hotel she drove them back to the precinct, after getting a phone call from Ella that placed the evidence they had just observed into a new context. They spent hours there, at work, Lucifer suffering through his increasing desire at watching Chloe be _so fucking good at her job_ that there was no way anyone else could replace her. The work had to be done, so he did it with her.

At the end of that night, he walked her back to her car, and took her hand gently as he looked at her face, debating over whether to kiss her or not. She had said ‘okay’ back at the hotel, but that was hours ago, in a different context, and they had been working since then…

“I have to go home and check on Trixie, let my babysitter get some sleep,” Chloe said, breaking into his reverie. He couldn’t read the look on her face. One of the more frustrating and rewarding things about working with Chloe was that he never quite knew what she was thinking, and that mystery kept him going.

“Of course,” he replied, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He hoped his face stayed neutral, and he flashed his best playboy grin at her as he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I don’t want to take you from your responsibilities,” he finished. Her eyes were boring into his soul and he could tell that she was trying to communicate something to him, something that maybe she didn’t even understand herself, but Dad help him if he knew what it was. With her, he was lost.

She took her hand back and used it to absently tuck her hair behind her ear, shoulders raising in mild discomfort and social awkwardness, but all Lucifer could think of was the way the skin below that ear had tasted beneath his lips, and he was frozen to the spot.

“Thanks for understanding, Lucifer. See you tomorrow?” Her keys were in her hand, she was opening her car door, she was halfway in the car and he was losing her, losing the moment, but all he could do was stare in wonder and fear as she waited, half in the car, for his answer. He blinked at her, his smile faded, praying desperately to keep himself under control. If she had regrets, if she had changed her mind, he had to be alright with it. _This has to come from her_. He had never felt that way with any other human, yet the conviction was so strong within him, it was like he had been born with it.

“Of course,” he said flatly, giving her a wan smile that he knew was a poor approximation for his usual flair, but it was all he could muster. “Be safe, Detective,” he choked out.

She returned his smile, just as small, and then she was in the car, she was driving away, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except remember the warmth of her body under his, the keening way she had said “yes” in his ear, the pain from her fingernails as she had clutched at him, moved with him. It had felt so right, and she had seemed to agree, in the lobby, after, but now it seemed she had come to her senses, was back to the old Detective, and the wall he thought they had broken was in fact not even cracked.

He didn’t even realize his hands were balled into fists until he loosened them to retrieve his keys from out of his pocket, and then he was speeding away, driving as fast as he could to Lux, where he drank himself into a stupor and attempted to enjoy the feeling of bodies and mouths that weren’t hers, dammit, would never be hers, but were, he supposed, all he deserved.

The next several days went by in agony as they finished closing the case, caught the bad guy, all while pretending nothing had happened in that hotel room. Indeed, it was as if the hotel room hadn’t happened at all. He unleashed his frustration on the suspect, using his angelic power to force the confession out of her, determined to give whatever value he could to Chloe. He was childishly hopeful that she would see how hard he worked for her and reconsider her rejection, but he had been watching humanity for a long time and knew that denial was their most powerful trait.

With any other human he would be able to press their hand, force the issue, like he had with the poor suspect in the mafia case, like he had with multiple other suspects and hapless humans in the past. He never made them do anything, but his influence was powerful, and he knew he was irresistible. Except to her. She was the one human that was immune to him, and it frustrated him to know that what he had thought was a real step in their relationship had been nothing but _work_ to her.

When Friday rolled around he was frustrated and angry. The case was closed, the team was in the bar at Lux celebrating, but he had excused himself early and retreated alone to his penthouse, unable to enjoy their victory. Despite the confession, despite the case, he felt as if he had lost.

He was halfway through his oldest bottle of Glenlivet when he heard the doors to his elevator slide open. His fingers froze on the keys, Rachmaninoff dying in the air as he turned to face his visitor. The sudden silence was oppressive as he met Chloe’s eyes. She was sauntering toward him, her jacket gone, the lilac silk shell she was wearing slipping over her shoulder, revealing the black lace of her bra strap. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks flushed as she came to the piano, unhurried but not slowly, and sat down beside him. Her cocktail glass was placed next to his old fashioned glass, the olive shining on its spear, rocking quietly in the dregs of the martini that she had been enjoying. He must be imagining the slide of her body against his, the pressure that indicated deliberate contact as she sat, her thigh alongside his, her hip digging into him, her shoulder forcing his arm to move, either away from her or around her. He took a deep breath to steady himself and looked at her face, searching for direction.

“Detective?” he questioned, and the use of her title was deliberate, as it always was, giving her distance to use or discard as she saw fit. Generally, she used it, and he suspected that tonight would be no different despite the swell of hope he tried to ignore that had been sparked by the heat of her pressed into him.

“Lucifer,” she breathed, and the sound of it went straight to his cock as the memory of the last time she sounded like that came unbidden and unwanted. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and forced himself to stay still and silent, waiting for her.

Her face leaned toward his, her breasts pushing on his arm as she further eliminated the space between them. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and just stared at her, waiting to see how she was going to ruin him this time. He wanted to close his eyes against the rejection and yet couldn’t, the hope in his belly refusing to let him as he stared at her face, wishing he knew what she wanted.

“It’s convenient, now,” murmured, her lips soft and light against his, and his control snapped as she kissed him. Her kiss was gentle, his was not. He snaked his arm out from between them and wrapped it around her back, pulling her against him as his tongue sought entry into her mouth and it was granted enthusiastically. His moan was involuntary as he tasted her again. He could feel her hands against his back, against his ribs, and he cursed himself for not shedding the vest with the jacket because it was one more barrier of cloth between them, one more obstacle he had to overcome, and he wanted nothing more than to make this easy for her.

He pulled at her arm, and she got the message and straddled him, matching his ferocity with her own as she moved her hand up his chest, into his hair, and by heaven she was pulling his hair again, her fingernails scratching his scalp and he couldn’t take it. He broke the kiss and _whined_ against her, pushing his head into her hand both to relieve the pressure and encourage her to do it more. Then he nudged his body forward, trapped her back against the keys of the piano, and the sound of discordant notes caused by her body was more beautiful in the air than Rachmaninoff had ever been.

His mouth was on her jaw, on her neck, and he revisited that spot behind her ear that had been haunting him for days and was rewarded by her gasp and that tiny noise that had been the end of him, would always be the end of him. He wanted to claim her this time, wanted to give her the bruise he had been tempted to before, but now she was giving him permission, she was rocking in his lap and he was harder for her than he had ever been before, even in the hotel room when there had been more skin between them.

Her blouse was in the way.

He growled at it, pulled his hands away from her back and her thigh to scrabble at her waist for the hemline. She helped him, leaning forward so he could pull the shirt off of her, her hands high in the air as the silk whispered past them. He trailed his fingers down her skin as her arms floated back down between them, and his eyes drank their fill of the vision of her breasts in a more beautiful black lacy bra than he had any right to be viewing. He held her upper arms, feeling the movement of the muscles there, the realization that she was unbuttoning his vest and his shirt in the background as he stared in awe at the beauty before him and wondered if he was dreaming.

His gaze flitted to her face and loved the look of concentration and desire it found there as she focused on divesting him of his clothing. She ran her palms up and down the skin of his chest before pushing the garments over his shoulders and he reluctantly released her to help her guide them to the floor. He watched her face as she drank him in, her eyes trailing from his belly to his chest, and then finally to his face. She wasn’t smiling, but then he wasn’t either, and her look was so hard he was sure that she could see every black mark on his soul, every reason he was going back to Hell. He was just as sure that she would never meet him there as he met her eyes and waited to see what she would do next, but the silence stretched out, and he was insecure.

“Chloe,” he whispered, his voice breaking. It was a question, desperate and full of shame at what he knew she could see of him, laid bare before her. _This is it,_ he thought, _this is when she comes to her senses._

But impossibly, she was starting to smile, a slow sensuous smile that tore into him, ripped him of all his person hood and made him a slave to her. He couldn’t help it, he groaned and gripped at her ribs, thumbs rubbing against the skin, unable to keep himself from doing anything and yet unable to do anything else.

“Lucifer,” she gasped, still staring in his eyes, and she rolled her hips on his lap again, not reaching his crotch and yet not needing to as his body responded on its own. She took his face in her hands, ran her fingers through his hair and across the back of his head and down his neck and across his shoulders and then back up, finally cupping his cheeks and pulling her face forward to rest her forehead against his. He finally closed his eyes, breathing in her exhalation, sure that this was the closest he would be to being inside of her. His hands moved of their own volition, rubbing her sides and her back, and when she kissed him again, this time she was the aggressive one, though it was too brief and she was lifting her mouth away too soon. Her forehead stayed pressed against his, and his hands responded to her aggression, fingertips digging into her flesh just hard enough that he could feel the heat of her, enjoy the way her body rocked in response.

“Lucifer, I said okay,” she whispered against his lips, and the tears were coming behind his eyelids, and he shook his head slowly, rolling his neck within her hands as if to deny her, but she was not deterred. “Look at me,” she demanded softly.

He couldn’t. He was broken before her, and he knew that she knew but he couldn’t show her, he just couldn’t. He inhaled and choked on it, and a tear escaped his eye, trailing down his cheek only to be caught by her thumb, and that was it, he was caught out, but he still couldn’t face her.

“Look at me, Lucifer,” she commanded, more firmly this time, and she brought her face away just enough that he could feel the loss. He was helpless before her, and he opened his eyes, blurry with the tears that were spilling over, carrying his love with them.

She was beautiful before him, lit from behind by the lights of the city, and they shone through her hair which he just now realized was loose around her shoulders. She looked angelic, and he knew the true meaning of that, and the knowledge that he wasn’t worthy of her just made the tears come harder.

“I want this,” she said simply, tilting her head to see below his lashes, to keep his gaze locked with hers. “I want you. I have for a long time.” Her thumbs brushed the tears from his cheeks ineffectively, and he sucked in a deep breath, sure he was dreaming.

“Are you sure?” he begged. “Are you absolutely sure?” he demanded, even as she kissed the tears away with a gentleness he would never deserve. She nodded against his face.

“But if we don’t get on with it I think I’m going to die,” she confessed, leaning back so he could see her playful smile. Her fingers against the back of his neck dug in, and he felt the prick of her nails as she rocked into his lap again, scooting herself closer to his waist but still not close enough.

He stopped crying, staring at her with disbelief as his body betrayed him and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her chest against his so that her skin could sear itself into his. The lace of her bra scratched him deliciously, the discomfort bringing him back to the reality that she was _here_ , with him, and she wanted him, and if he was dreaming he didn’t care because he wanted this more than he wanted everything.

He growled and kissed her then, pushing his tongue into her mouth and feeling hers in return, dancing along his teeth and threatening the back of his throat. He couldn’t break the kiss if he wanted to, her grip against his skull pressing his face into hers, and he ran his hands up and down her back, pulling her close enough, finally, that he was sure she could feel his erection because he could feel her heat against it.

She moaned into his mouth and her hips moved into him. He answered her thrust with his own, the pleasure of it threatening to undo him.

They broke the kiss by mutual unspoken agreement, and she kissed along his face while his fingers found the clasp to her bra and paused, waiting, asking her without words if this was okay, because despite her declaration he was determined to give her an out whenever he could, because while this was the culmination of all his desires, any regret on her part tomorrow would send him back to Hell on its own.

She didn’t reject him, didn’t take the out that he offered. Instead she dragged herself along the length of his erection and took his ear between her teeth and _moaned_ , low and throaty, and it was all the assent he needed. The hooks were undone and he followed the ends around her back, around her sides, and then she leaned back and took the bit of lace off of herself, throwing it behind him as his hands continued their journey and held her breasts for the first time.

She leaned back against the piano, pulling out the key guard behind her so that her skin touched solid wood instead of antique ivory, and she rested her elbows atop it and watched his face as he drank in the sight of her cupped in his hands.

He squeezed them gently yet firmly, bringing pressure from the base to the tip, and his fingers closed around her nipples and softly pinched them, rolling them and making her head flip backwards, driving that keening sound out of her that he loved. So he repeated the action, again from base to tip, but this time when he got to her nipples she panted, and he couldn’t help himself, he leaned forward and took one in his mouth.

He thought the skin of her neck had been sweet, but he knew now that he had been wrong. The skin of her breast was the softest he had ever felt, and the taste of her under his tongue was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. He laved at her, reveling in the feeling of her arching into him, pressing herself against his ever hardening cock in a way that maddened him and encouraged him endlessly. They found that rhythm they had lost as her hands clenched against his shoulder, in his hair, stimulating him with pleasure and just a tiny bit of pain to switch sides, and he attacked her other breast with gusto, pushing it into his mouth as his thumb flicked the wet nipple of the breast he had just abandoned. Her hips bucked against him, and they both groaned at each other as the rhythm sped up, becoming more desperate the more he tasted from her.

She pulled on his neck and he took the hint, kissing his way back up her chest and pausing at her neck to nuzzle her there, nipping and biting until he got to her jaw and her mouth, where they again fused their lips and tongues as their chests melded together, hands and arms racing, trying to feel all of each other all at once. Her pelvis was insistent, rocking and thrusting against him faster, and he grabbed her ass with both hands and stood, kicking the piano bench behind him and letting it clatter to the floor.

He didn’t need to see to bring her up the stairs to his bedroom. He had done this before, with many people -- men and women both -- carrying them wrapped around his waist while kissing them into oblivion, and he was grateful now that he had practiced because he didn’t want to waste one second with her, and there were no awkward or clumsy moments between the piano and his bed. He lay her down atop the duvet, pressing his knee to the mattress as he held himself above her. He released his grip on her hip with one hand, running it up her body, over her breast, and around the side of her head as he kissed her and resisted her pull on his shoulders. She clearly wanted him to lay down with her and he wasn’t ready yet. Instead he pulled away, stood next to the bed and watched her raise herself on her elbows, her eyes following his hands as he reached for his belt buckle and slowly undid it, pulling the leather through the Italian wool loops of his trousers and throwing it to the side.

She licked her lips and inhaled sharply, then looked at his face and gave an almost imperceptible nod before staring back at his hands again. He slowly undid the button and drew down the zipper, again trying to give her time to escape, but all he saw on her face was hunger as he released the waistband and allowed the garment to fall to the floor, exposing his silk boxers and the tent of his erection. He stood there, letting her stare at him, warring with himself over whether to undress completely or take this pause. When she looked back up at him he decided on the latter, unable to keep himself away from her any longer, and he climbed back on the bed and straddled her thigh, keeping his weight to himself but letting gravity sink them both into the mattress.

She was kissing him again with abandon, and exploring his now exposed skin with her hands. Her touch pressed across his back and teased the waistband of his boxers before gliding over the silk and clutching his thigh underneath it, riding it up so she could pull on the skin where his thigh became his ass, scraping the sensitive flesh with her nails and making him growl against her neck. He kissed and sucked his way down her body then, pausing at her breast to lick and suck her nipples in turn before moving down her belly to her own trousers and placing a little bite above the button before looking up at her. Again, she gave a tiny nod.

“Please,” she cried softly, and he grinned wickedly before bending his head down and using his mouth and one hand to undo the fastening, running his tongue along the skin he exposed and enjoying the thrust of her hips against his chest and the frustrated grunt that his touch elicited.

He moved to kneel between her legs and gripped the cloth at her hips before pausing to look at her, but she didn’t hesitate, instead lifted her hips and used her hands to push his down and help him remove the last of her clothing, her feet curling up between them as they worked together to guide the cotton over her ankles and off, and she settled her feet back on either side of his knees as he threw her clothes away onto the floor.

He touched the outside of her calves, gliding his hands lightly up and down her leg from ankle to knee, and she opened for him like the gates of Heaven never would again, moisture glistening on her curls and pink flesh peeking out deliciously. Her knees fell to the side and he ran his palms up the inside of her legs, her thighs, then skimmed his thumbs in the hollow and moved around to hold her hips, still unsure she was ready, but she reached for him, and pulled his head toward her and down, making clear what she wanted, and he was more than willing to oblige.

He bent his neck and took his first taste of her, licking gently at her slit before stretching out and settling between her legs, enjoying the not-quite-friction of the silk against his cock, and the anticipating how the juice on his tongue would feel wrapped around him. He moved his hands back around and opened her, licking again, and again, making her buck and groan and grab his hair, and then he moaned loudly and dove in. He buried his nose in her curls, breathing deeply of her most intimate scent as he delved his tongue as deeply as he could, trying to taste as much of her as possible. She was sweet and musky as most women were, but she tasted better than any woman he would ever taste, and he couldn’t get enough of her. He sucked her lips, her clit, running his tongue in circles around the whole of her sex, spiraling smaller and smaller until he could fuck her with his tongue again.

“Shit,” Chloe panted softly above him, her hips moving erratically against his face, “God, you’re good at this.”

He didn’t want to stop even long enough to remind her that he had been telling her this for ages, so he didn’t. Instead, he held her hips steady as he continued his work, his own hips thrusting involuntarily against the surface of the bed in response to her, to the taste of her.

When her thighs started to tremble against his stubble, he put one hand on top of her pelvis and used the other to slide two fingers inside of her, lifting his face away momentarily to curl his fingers upward against that secret spot as he held her steady, limiting her movement to intensify the sensation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said earnestly, and she groaned and bucked harder, causing him to growl and bend his head again, sucking and nibbling on her clit as he thrust his fingers in and out of her.

The sound started deep in her belly, a vibration that he could feel in his palm as she suddenly stilled and clamped down around his fingers, and it escaped out of her in a deep wail that only increased in volume and pitch as she arched her back and then collapsed, crying out while her walls clutched erratically around his hand. He licked her clit twice as she went through it, bringing her back to the top before she could come all the way down, and when she started panting breathlessly he stopped and pulled himself up alongside her, removing his hand and sucking her juice off of it as he put his head on the pillow next to her, watching her face as she caught her breath.

She looked at him, really saw him. Most people, after he gave them an orgasm like that, were deep within themselves, but she was there with him, her hand rubbing over his face as she stared at him with wonder and love. She pulled him toward her and kissed him, and he found himself panting when she pulled away to suck her essence off of his chin, and give sucking little kisses around his mouth before kissing him again, and he could taste her again on her tongue. He pulled her hip toward him and she faced him on her side, letting his erection rub against her belly as she continued to kiss him and slowly calm herself.

He was tempted then, to tell her he loved her, while her eyes were shining with satisfaction, but he didn’t want to taint either the moment or the declaration by doing it right then. Besides, it was clear that she knew, _really knew_ , from the way she looked at him. Then it was too late, as she deliberately moved her hand down his side to cup him through his boxers. He thrust into her grip, unable to stop himself from making the movement or its accompanying groan. She gave a knowing little smirk and it drove him wild; this time, the thrust into her hand was deliberate, and she gripped him through the silk, running her thumb over the wet spot on the tip.

“You are going to be the death of me, Detective,” he muttered into her mouth, kissing her as she started to pump his cock, still gripping the silk and helping it to slide against the smooth skin of his cock, catching his foreskin and using it to tantalize him with the motion against his sensitive glans.

“That’s always been the idea, Lucifer,” she teased, swinging her leg over his hips and straddling him, keeping her hand – and the cloth – between them. “Ever since I shot you, that’s been the plan.” Her grin was wicked as she gripped him tightly with that last sentence, and he couldn’t help but smile at her, even while he growled and pulled her down against his chest to kiss her again. His hand reached out to the side and pulled at the covers, revealing the satin sheets underneath, and he rolled them over so he was on top of her again, enjoying her gasp as her hot skin met the cool black satin.

“It’s been a successful plan more than once already,” he retorted, kissing her neck and her collarbone while they worked together to push the silk of his boxers over his erection and down his thighs. She wrapped her ankles around the back of his thighs as he kicked the undergarment away, his hot cock now pressed between the lips of her sex. “But I have to be sure, Chloe…”

She interrupted him with a lift of her hips, and used her hand to adjust him so his tip was at her entrance.

“I have an IUD,” she said simply, responding to his wide eyed surprise. Then they both said nothing more.

She held his ass as he slid slowly into her, their eye contact saying everything that needed to be said about love, and need, and togetherness. She was tighter and slicker and hotter than he had imagined, and this was already the most amazing sex he had ever had and it was just getting started.

Her head arched back and her eyes fluttered closed as he bottomed out against her cervix, the soft warmth of her sex pressed against his skin. He wanted to close his eyes too but was mesmerized by the look of her, and held himself still, letting her get used to him. He picked himself up on his elbows and brushed a lock of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear, then stroked her hair gently, waiting.

She hummed softly, and started to move, rolling her hips in a small circle, rubbing her clit against him. He gasped from the change in pressure as she moved around him, then slowly pulled out and pushed himself back in again, the slide and heat and softness of her gripping against him, unwilling to let him go and yet fighting him on the way back in. It was maddening, and he groaned, lowering his head to her shoulder as they set a rhythm.

Her arms were around his back and tantalizing the skin there, and this time when her fingers brushed his scars he relished the sensitivity there, the intense almost-pain that her touch evoked. She didn’t linger there, however, instead bringing her hands down to brace against his hips, his ass, pulling him into her as she rose up to meet him.

Her moans weren’t enough. He needed to hear her, needed her to speak.

His mouth dipped down against her collar bone, and he shifted his weight to one elbow so he could guide her breast to his mouth, gently grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin of her nipple and enjoying her yelp of pain and pleasure.

“Lucifer,” she gasped, and it was what he had been waiting for, what he needed more than anything. He picked up the pace and she met him, her walls tensing around him, gearing her up for another peak. He rolled them over again, pulling her on top, and she braced her hands against his shoulders as he stabilized her hips.

“I want to watch you,” he said, his voice was deep and husky with desire, and he could feel his own climax start to build low in his belly as she groaned and moved on top of him. The thrusts were shallower now, helping him to keep himself in check as she ground her clit against him with short, rocking movements that increased in speed. She pushed her torso up to get a better angle, and her fingers dug into his ribs so hard he was sure there would be bruises tomorrow and he was grateful that he would have the reminder, at least until she left his presence. She was speeding up, getting more erratic, and he lifted his knees and spread his legs to help her get leverage as she sat up higher, chasing the friction, her hands lifting to grip his wrists as he helped guide her hips. He ground his teeth together as she tightened impossibly around his cock, and then she was fluttering, sputtering, and spastically thrusting her hips as she moaned incoherently and threw her head back, her hair tickling the inside of his thighs as he pressed up into her, feeling it intensify her orgasm.

He didn’t draw it out this time, couldn’t stand it, but he waited for her to fall forward before he lifted her hips and started driving into her, chasing his own bliss. She held herself above him, her hands next to his head, and her hair made a curtain around them, centering his gaze so he could look in her eyes, and for the first time he saw what she desired, and it was him, and the knowledge of it drove him over the edge until he was gasping, his mouth open and yet unable to move air or make sound as he pushed into her and she pushed back, her own grunt speaking for him as she clutched him with her aftershocks.

Finally, they could both breathe again, though they didn’t move, just stayed there frozen and staring at each other, both of them aware that what they had just experienced together was rare and magical and holy. As he came back to his senses, Lucifer was suddenly very, very afraid.

“Chloe,” he began, but he couldn’t continue, unable to give voice to the fear and love and longing in his heart.

To his amazement and dismay, her face softened and she smiled at him. She lowered her body over him and picked up her hand, taking her turn with brushing the hair out of his face before placing a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead, then a peck to his nose, and then kissing his mouth gently, almost reverently. He clutched at her waist and her back, overwhelmed with the things neither of them were saying, grateful to her for understanding.

When she lifted her head he loosened his grip on her, and she picked herself up and slid off of him, both of them gasping slightly as his softened cock fell out and landed with a small pop onto his belly. She swung her leg over and snuggled up beside him, her hand tracing circles over his heart while he squeezed her and kissed the top of her head.

“Lucifer,” she said after long moments of silence. He braced himself, holding his breath in anticipation. She picked up her head and looked at him, and he looked down at her, waiting. “Can I use your bathroom?” she said innocently, with a slight twinkle in her eye, as if she knew what he had been worried about and was deliberately teasing him.

He smiled then, a genuine, satisfied smile that lit up his face and prompted her to smile back. The smile was followed by a giggle from both sides, and it was so warm and wonderful that he had to lean down awkwardly and kiss her again, a chaste, loving kiss that he had never shared with any of his other bedmates, with no lasciviousness, no promise behind it except for pure feeling.

“Of course, darling,” he said, aware that the sobriquet now held a different tone with her. He lifted his hand from her side and pointed. “It’s right through there.”

She smiled at him again, and he could swear the room was brighter for it, and after she rose and went through the door to his bathroom, he was sure the room darkened again.

He got up himself and retrieved his trousers and boxers from the floor of the bedroom, bringing them into his closet and tossing them into the bin for the cleaners. He took a clean pair of boxers out of the drawer and slipped a silk robe over his shoulders, then went back down to the bar and fetched them both a drink. He was sitting on the side of the bed waiting for her when she emerged, hair tied up presumably with one of the elastics he kept in there for just the purpose, body wrapped in the black silk robe that had been hanging from the door. It was overly large on her, unsurprising since he was so much taller than she was, and the sleeves dwarfed her hands. He held up her glass and they slid down her arms as she reached for it, taking a sip and sitting down next to him.

She was nervous again, playing with the rim of her glass while looking down into the liquid as if it would give her answers. He turned to face her, bracing a hand against the mattress next to him and taking another sip of his drink, and waiting. He would always wait for her.

“Lucifer, I….” she began, but cut herself off, prompting him to speak.

“Do you regret it, then?” he asked softly, unable to look at her.

“What? No!” she cried, looking at him. When he didn’t meet her gaze, she touched his arm, rubbing it softly. “Lucifer, I regret nothing about this, nothing at all!” She put her glass down on the nightstand and reached up to grip his face with both hands, forcing him to look at her.

“Lucifer, this was the best night of my life, and I don’t know how to thank you for it,” she admitted earnestly, and he finally was able to see her, acknowledge how open her face was. He smiled, and she kissed him gently, lovingly, before pulling away again and reclaiming her drink. She took another sip and snuggled into him, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “I just wasn’t sure if I could spend the night,” she said, dropping the bomb so casually that he nearly choked.

“Spend the night?” he asked incredulously. She tried to pull away but he held her to him. “Chloe, it would be my honor to spend the night next to you, whether we sleep or not.” And he infused so much promise into that last phrase that he could swear she purred as she cuddled into him.

“In that case,” she said, straightening up beside him. She took his drink, which was mostly gone anyway, and put both glasses back down on the nightstand, then got on her knees next to him and slid her hand beneath his robe, finding his nipple and rubbing it gently. “You had better get ready for round two,” she whispered in his ear, and her hot breath against him caused him to shiver.

He growled and spun toward her, grabbing her around the waist and silencing her squeal with a deep, lingering kiss as he took them both back down on the bed. “I’m game for as many rounds as you want, Detective,” he purred at her.

Her only response was to smile at him, before deliberately untying his robe from around her waist and bringing him down to kiss her again.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments welcome, including ConCrit. We're all learning.


End file.
